


And I Feel Fine

by smolassassinchildx (smolassassinchild)



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-17
Updated: 2010-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-03 06:04:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolassassinchild/pseuds/smolassassinchildx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world has just ended, and Kara takes advantage of survival.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the bsg_pornbattle

“Looks like we’re bunkmates now.”

Kara is lying stretched out on her rack, cigar between her fingers, puffing lazy smoke rings as if she’s perfected the art. When he speaks she looks startled for a moment, watching Lee as he leans on the hatch. And then she’s on her feet, striding towards him with purpose. Her hands grip his face and without preamble her lips fuse to his. She tastes like fine fumarello leaf and he fleetingly thinks if she keeps this up he could get addicted to her. She drags her tongue across his lips and before his brain has time to say no, he opens his mouth to her—letting her drink him in, tongues tangling until he’s dizzy with the need to breathe. When she finally draws back, he’s panting for air.

“That was… that… why?”

Her hands stay firmly on his face, thumb brushing over his cheek. “I was just thinking—”

Cutting her off, he smirks. “You think?”

She swats at his arm, hard enough that it might actually bruise. “I thought you were dead, Lee.” Her gaze is harsh on his, voice rasping, before something softens. “And I should’ve done this the second I knew you weren’t.”

She descends on him again, not just lips but her whole body—all lean muscle under soft curves pressed flush against him, pinning him to the hatch. He is singularly failing to hide his obvious arousal.

“Kara, we really, _really_ shouldn’t.”

She nips at his lower lip. “The worlds just ended. Gimme one reason why any of that frakking matters anymore.” She grinds her hips into his, and his head falls back as he gasps. “What do you say, Lee?”

He collects himself for a moment before he rasps out, “Your rack or mine?”

She flicks her gaze to the bunk across from hers and a wicked grin lights up her eyes. “Yours.”

Next thing he knows, Lee’s flat on his back in the unfamiliar bed, with Kara straddling his hips, fingers working furiously at the buttons on his duty blues and it suddenly hits him that he doesn’t actually have a spare change of clothes anymore. For the first time he starts to realize just what it means to be living after the apocalypse—frak the past, frak baggage, why the hell should those remain when nothing else is left.

Suddenly his hands are all over her, gathering her clothes, and shoving them aside until they’re both bare and she’s hovering over him, hot and slick and, gods, so gorgeous as she slides down over him. He digs his fingers into her hips, bucking up to meet her, and the sound of her moan would make his knees buckle if he wasn’t flat on his back.

She rocks up and slides down on him again and it’s his turn to moan. She sets the tempo and he follows her lead, thrust for thrust—pulls her down to rain kisses along her neck and shoulder as they rock against each other. “Oh, frak,” she gasps, all breath, bracing her elbows next to his head.

As her body starts to tense, he pulls her flush against him and, in one fluid movement, flips them over, bucking into her again and again. Harder and deeper and she arches up against him, her hands braced on his biceps. She’s chanting his name, as she shudders hard, clenching tight around him as she comes. And just the way she says it, “Lee,” is enough to send him spiraling after her.

He barely has time to collapse, half on top of her, muttering “Kara, I—” before the alarm sounds. _Action stations. Action stations. Set condition one throughout the ship. This is not a drill. Repeat. This is not a drill._

She’s out from under him before the announcement is over, pulling her uniform on with a studied efficiency. “Figured the frakking toasters would find us eventually. Didn’t think it’d be this soon.”

He’s back in uniform a split second after her, and he is by her side as they race for the hangar deck. “Well, let’s get out there and make sure they don’t find us again.”

They’re in the launch tubes, ready to go when he hears her voice over the comm. “Don’t die on me, Apollo.”

“Never,” he says.

And it begins.

 

\--End--


	2. Some Time Alone

She makes it back alive. So does he.  
238 times.

Sometimes, when they make it back, Kara pulls him out of the sight of prying eyes, pulls their flight suits out of the way just so she can feel his skin burning against hers, feel him thrusting inside her as she tears at him with mouth and hands, as a reminder to herself that she got out of this one. Sometimes she’s just too frakking tired to bother.

Sometimes, she lets Lee hold her for one out of thirty-three minutes, like he doesn’t know what he’d do if she didn’t come back. She steals a kiss from him when no one’s looking as a promise that she will.. She doesn’t know if she can keep it, but she’s gonna try like hell.

They do make it back, every time, even when 1,300 others don’t. She sits with him as he rewatches the gun cam footage, passes a bottle back and forth between them, and doesn’t really know what the frak else to say.

\---

He gets one of the last showers before water consumption stops. Sure, they’re all gonna die of dehydration if they don’t find water soon, but she can’t help but feel irked.

“Why? When was the last time _you _took a shower?” he asks, the towel hanging from his waist just begging for her to come tear it off. So she does, pushes him down into his rack and rides him until he’s breathless and sweaty and clutching at her like a lifeline.

Afterwards, she settles herself in the bit of space between him and the bulkhead, drags a finger through the sheen of sweat across his chest. “I think you need another shower, Apollo.” She laughs.

\---

“I can’t believe you let the motherfrakker get away!” She doesn’t give a frak about the way the others clear out the bunkroom, closing the hatch and leaving the two of them at each other’s throats. The CAG and Starbuck are fighting again, what’s new?. He yells back something bitter and self-righteous and they rally for a while until she wants to put a bullet in _his_ head.

At some point, some crucial point, he stops fighting with his words and starts fighting with his mouth. Bruising, biting kisses, consuming her as he shoves her back into the lockers. Her fingernails dig into his skin, leaving long, raw scratches in his back as she tears off his tanks. They frak hard and fast, and by the end she knows she’ll have bruises on her wrists for at least a week. She hazily thinks that fighting is fun when this is the reward.

Lee’s neck looks bitten, bruised, bleeding—like he went a few rounds with a vampire. He tells Cottle he got the wound on the _Astral Queen_ earlier. Cottle doesn’t buy it.

\---

She loves everything about it. Loves the taste of him in her mouth. Loves the way that perfect CAG attitude starts to slip away when his cock slips through her lips. Loves the sounds he makes. Loves the hazy look in his eyes when he comes.

She crawls back up his body and he looks at her, sighing with satisfaction. He murmurs, “Love you.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re just saying that because I give great head.”

His response takes a second longer than it should. “Well, yeah.”

“Come on,” she says, smacking his stomach lightly. “We gotta get going.”

“Where?”

“Flattop’s thousandth landing.” The look on his face can only be described as _oh, shit_. Matter-of-factly, she tells him, “You’re the worst CAG in the history of CAGs.”

\---

After the funeral they hole up in his office with a bottle of ambrosia. Between the two of them it’s gone in under an hour. They sit next to each other, thighs pressed together. Lee has his hand on her hip, just laying there, familiar almost. Eventually, she rests her head on his shoulder. They don’t talk, but the silence is good.

“Your dad wants me to teach again,” she confesses.

Lee’s quiet for a moment. “Are you?”

“Don’t really have much of a choice.”

At the end of the night, they crawl into their separate racks.

\---

First time he visits her in sickbay she’s so worn out on the Doc’s drugs she doesn’t bother to open her eyes. Lee just sits beside her, touches her hand, and stays there until she passes out.

The next time he visits her, he tells her he has a gift for her. He tells her it isn’t much but she wonders where the frak he managed to get a chocolate bar. It’s not like they’re making the stuff anymore. She shoves it back at him and tells him it’s too valuable. He refuses to leave her side until she eats it. She takes half, tells him to keep the other.

He only leaves when she tells him the drugs are making her tired. When wakes up, he’s left the other square of chocolate and she wonders when the hell gifts became a part of their thing. Whatever their thing was.

Blip on the dradis, it seems. The next week he’s bringing her crutches, doing everything he can to taunt her out of bed and it occurs to her that _this _is the Lee she knows. It hurts like hell, but he promises things that he can’t do to her in sickbay and it’s pretty frakking motivating.

\---

She thinks sometimes that maybe she did die back on that red moon and now she’s suffering eternal torment for her sins. At least that’s what it feels like. She’s a pilot that can’t fly and she’s sure that if she doesn’t get in a cockpit soon she’s going to lose her mind.

On the other hand, now that she’s got some kind of routine back, Lee’s doing his best to make her lose her mind in other ways. Sometimes, when she’s sitting on his desk and he’s on his knees in front of her, worshipping her with fingers and tongue, Kara feels like she’s gone completely insane. The things that man can do with his tongue on her clit or the twist of his fingers _just so_ can send her into total oblivion.

The crazier thing is, she realizes she’s wanting more every single day.

\---

Lee finds her in a shit mood after the interrogation. He asks her how it went and doesn’t believe her when she tells him it was fine. He refuses to let her close up, so she opens just a little. Tells him that the cylon knew things, about her, about her past—it just shook her, that’s all.

He slides next to her in her rack, and asks her what else the cylon knew. “Does he know about us?”

_Us. _

She doesn’t know why, but she likes the sound of it. Almost as much as she likes the way he draws the curtain shut, settles over her, and slides into her. There’s a fire building inside her with each stroke, dizzying, electrifying, making her forget about everything but this.

Everything but them.

\---

  
She waits in CIC. Waits and watches, stuck with the knowledge that if he dies out there it’s her own frakking fault. It might not be true exactly, but it’s her plan and it sure as hell feels like it.

Later, watching him climb out of his cockpit, she’s never been prouder or more grateful. When they can sneak away unnoticed, she drags him into his office, strips off his flight suit and lays him out on his desk.

She drags her lips over every inch of skin she can reach, scraping lightly with her teeth and suckling hard whenever the urge strikes her to mark him, make him hers. The deep groans from the back of his throat have her wet and aching and when she can’t wait anymore, she crawls on top of him. Arms braced on his chest, her bad leg hangs off the desk and she uses her good one as she lowers himself over him.

His hands guide her hips as she rocks up and down in a steady rhythm that has him chanting her name over and over again and every time it sounds like it means more than just her name. After they’re done, she just holds him for a minute, unsure of what she’d have done if he hadn’t come back.

\---

She shows up to the Colonial Day dance in a dress just to frak with him. His reaction is better than anticipated.

He’s not the only one who’s noticed she cleans up good sometimes. The new Vice President tries to cut in on their dance and Lee tells him to politely frak off. His arm tightens around her waist and she can feel what her proximity is doing to his body.

Next thing she knows, they’ve gotten a room on Cloud 9 and locked the door behind them. His hands come up and cup her face, thumbs brushing over her cheekbones. He kisses her soundly, until she can’t breathe, and pulls back to rest his forehead against hers. “Gods, Kara,” he whispers. “I love you.” He closes his eyes. “You don’t have to say it back, I just… wanted you to know.”

She pulls him down to her on the bed, lets him strip her of her dress, while she tugs at the buttons of his dress greys. Finally bare, he braces himself over her, and she pulls his face down to her, sealing their lips together.

And then their bodies seal together. The hot length of him filling her sends electric shivers up her spine and she brings her legs up, locks them around his hips to draw him deeper into her. The rhythm is familiar now, but the fire is as strong as it has ever been. Every touch, every kiss, every stroke brings them higher until release rushes through them.

Sated and sweaty under the covers, she rolls onto her side. She kisses him long and slow and deep, and she means _I love you, too. _

She’s not sure she can say it back—not aloud, not yet—but she hopes he can hear it anyway.


End file.
